Page 16 of The Chosen One, My Ass

Once inside, I see the other two kids watching us, or more specificallyme, from a few feet away, not bothering to hide their curiosity. I’m starting to think they don’t have dinner guests very often. This youngest girl looks even more like Miranda than Jessie does, aside from her straight, golden hair. The boy is another clone of Jake, except with Miranda’s dark brown, unruly locks.

“And you must be Natalie and Sam.” I say it with a strange pride and mentally pat myself on the back for correctly identifying all of the kids. Four kids is a lot of kids. Really, it may as well be twenty. And with all of them standing in front of me, I think I finally understand Miranda’s relationship with coffee.

We stand around awkwardly until Miranda’s voice calls me from further back inside the house. I remember the kitchen is back through that hallway from my last, and only, visit here.

“Hey George! We’re in the kitchen. Come on back!”

I nod at the kids who turn to the right, toward the room flickering with the light and noise of a TV, and make my way to the left.

As I remember, the kitchen is bright and open. To be honest, it wouldn’t be on any cooking shows. The table has piles of textbooks and notebooks, some still open, and in my mind’s eye I can see them all there, Jessie yelling at Phoebe, Phoebe whining at Miranda, Miranda rolling her eyes and snapping at both of them while she leans over Natalie to help her with an equation. I remember back to my mom helping me with my homework, it was never as loud as I suspect this house gets though.

I shake my head to snap myself back to the present and look at Jake and Miranda. Jake is not super pleased to see me, but at least they don’t look like they were fighting. He’s looking at Miranda, a smile is frozen on his face as if I caught them mid joke. But as his eyes shift to me, the corners of that smile sink a bit and his arms cross over his chest. Miranda doesn’t notice because she is bustling around the kitchen, getting the components of an honest to god feast onto large platters that will soon be brough into the dining room. The counters still have crumbs from chopped up vegetables, drops from sauces. Knowing Miranda, I’m surprised she doesn’t wipe everything up in her wake as she moves through the preparations. But this imperfection makes me smile.

I clear my throat before awkwardly speaking. “I brought you a bottle of the Nightingale wine you said you like.”

Jake reaches for the bottle and when I hand it over to him he studies the label. “Like it? Shelovesthis. Where did you even find it? I haven’t been able to find it in years.”

“Oh, I found a few stores in New Jersey that still had some. It wasn’t that hard.” I mean, I only had to call three liquor stores and drive forty miles to get it. But I suspect that fact would do little to win Jake over to my side, and Miranda already loves me anyway.

I carry a large platter of roasted carrots into the dining room because Jake beat me to the plate of carved chicken. We all mill about at the table which is set for seven, leaving one place empty. I look around and note that the furniture here, eight chairs surrounding a rectangular table, fills the dining room much more than the table that seats sixteen in my own. This room is smaller yes, but also more intimate–cozy. The one I grew up with always felt so expansive and drafty, more like I was eating in a museum than my own house. I envy the life of these kids, this family.

I wait until the family begins seating themselves, since they probably have usual spots they’re most comfortable in. When the rest of the chairs are taken, I take the last, near the opposite end from where Miranda sits at the head of the table, Jake sits to her left, closest to the door to the kitchen. I notice he is jumping up and down to get last minute items and random requests from the kids more than Miranda is. I kind of like that. I’m glad he doesn’t just leave it all for her to do so that she can’t take a bite of her food until it’s too cold to be enjoyed.

Jessie sits down directly across from me, watching me with a pitbull-like level of distrust. “So…George…why does our parents’personal trainerwant to have dinner with us?”

Miranda, Jake, and I all freeze, with a wine glass, fork, and napkin halfway to our respective mouths. My eyes meet Miranda’s, and we both then look to Jake’s. We stay quiet for a few seconds. Miranda clears her throat, takes a sip of her wine, resets her glass, and looks at her oldest daughter.

“Well, Jessie, not that we need to explain everything in our lives to you, but…we’re…thinking of setting up a space in the basement to train here. On our own. Between the sessions we’re already doing, that is. And George said he would take a look at the space and give us some suggestions of what we can do down there.”

Jake and I nod along.

Jessie isn’t buying it. Her eyes narrow until I can no longer tell that they are slightly different colors. “Between sessions? Five days a week just isn’t cutting it, huh?”

Wow, she’s a tough one. I would feel bad for Miranda and Jake except for the fact that she is exactly like her mother, and I have to deal with this attitude all the time. I hide my smirk behind the wine glass I start to drink from when Jessie makes one last jab.

“Are you guys a throuple or something?”

I choke on my wine.

“Jessie Elizabeth Gold!” Not since I first told Miranda she was the Guardian have I seen her so flustered.

Jessie doesn’t say anything, but she crosses her arms over her chest and raises one eyebrow, silently challenging her mother’s outrage.

Thinking I can lessen the tension, I say, “Sorry, Jessie. The home gym was actually my idea. I just thought it would be helpful and healthy for your parents if they had a few pieces of equipment here so they can do certain exercises we do together every day. At their ages, it’s imperative they stay on top of their strength training and core exercises.”

In my periphery, I see two heads snap to me when I mentiontheir ages. In trying to take the heat off of them, I may have just moved an inferno onto myself. However, they both just smile and nod, too-wide grins plastered on their faces which have taken on a reddish hue.

It’s nice not to have to deal with a snappy, sarcastic response, or a violent physical one for that matter. It’s a new experience for me when I’m with Miranda and Jake. Maybe I should come over here more often.

I am enjoying getting to know the kids. In direct contrast to Jessie’s sullen coolness, Phoebe, who is seated directly to my left, radiates joy and a bright airiness, especially straight across the table, at her older sister. She walks with a bounce in her step that makes her look like she’s floating on air. When she laughs with her siblings, sometimesather siblings, her smile takes over her whole little face and I hear the faint tinkling of wind chimes.

Natalie is across from me but down a seat, next to Jessie, and I am sure I catch her looking quickly away from me more than once as I glance her way. Her cheeks are developing a brighter pink glow the longer the meal goes on. Every once in a while, she interjects her own smart-ass remarks into her family’s conversation, but she’s largely an observer. I see her big blue eyes taking everything in and can almost see the gears in her head turn as she absorbs all of what is being said. Heaven help Miranda when this one decides to really join in the exchange.

And then there’s Sammy. I’m not interacting with him much because he’s on the far side of Phoebe and I have the least sight of him. But I see Jake’s face beam as they converse. He is proud of his son and smiles in a way I’m not used to seeing. Watching him in this moment I get it. I see a glimpse of the Jake Miranda must have fallen in love with.

I wasn’t expecting it, but there are even mouthwatering desserts at the end of the already over-the-top-for-a-random-weeknight dinner. Apparently, Phoebe and Natalie are quite the bakers. When Miranda told them I’d be coming to dinner, they set to work. Phoebe made the most ooey gooey fudge brownies I have ever had the pleasure of consuming. Not to be outdone, the smallest of the Gold women prepared a blueberry pie bursting with flavor in every bite I take. Without meaning to, I almost indulge to the point of immobilized sleepiness. But I can’t have food render me useless against any trolls we may come across tonight.

Oh, right. Trolls. I choke a little on my water when I remember that Miranda and I still have a mission tonight. I look to my right, out the dining room window, and see the sun has indeed set. It’s dark enough now that they will probably be out from wherever they hide during the day by the time we get back. Miranda follows my eyes, then looks at the half-full glass of wine in her hand. Regretfully, she places it back on the table.

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